


From the Dining table. (One-Shot)

by MukeSinner



Series: Album One-Shots (H&L) [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fiction, He is trying to cope., Louis is sleeping around, M/M, Mentions of Harry sleeping with another woman, Mentions of alochol use, More tags to be added, Multi, depressed!harry, drunk!Harry, from the dining table, larry - Freeform, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 03:29:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15161591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MukeSinner/pseuds/MukeSinner
Summary: The aftermath of the breakup. Harry can't think straight, thoughts too stained by Louis to know what is right or wrong. Pain fueled, he finds a girl who looks like Louis, and seeks out all the wrong parts of her to fill all the missing parts in him. He tricks himself into believing it’s him, feels perfect for the night only for the nightmares to return once the alcohol veil was lifted and the sun rose. Desperate to explain himself, or try and talk to him before the non-existent photos of him and the girl came to light, he tries to call Louis. Again. But no answer. Like every other time.





	From the Dining table. (One-Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> I am back!! I have figured it out and should have between 12-14 short little one shots, and they will all be different but tie together. I am making a short story with them, and hope you all can fill in the dots. I hope you enjoy!! :)
> 
> This is purely fiction.

Today was his first day back after his three week break, or disappearance, really. His stomach has settled some, and rather than being riddled with the why and what if questions, he was left with the god awful dread and pain he couldn’t shake. He was left sinking below the water, didn’t have enough fight left in him to drag him back up and stop himself from drowning, and he was fine with that. He didn’t want to live, didn’t want to go on and continue pretending he was fine with fake smiles plastered on his face when he no longer knew if he even had a heart.

He hasn’t taken any pills, either. Not since the first week. After that he became numb naturally, didn’t need to extra boost from whatever Zayn was feeding him. He can’t say he knows what he is feeling, either. His heart had started it all, it was the first thing he lost feeling to and he is convinced that it has died, or was ripped out in the middle of the night when exhaustion finally consumed him and allowed him a few hours of fitful sleep.

_Woke up alone in this hotel room_

_Played with myself, where were you?_

_Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon_

_I've never felt less cool_

Eyebrows furrowed and voice soft, timid with the vulnerability dripping from his words, Harry closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch anyone, didn’t want to see everyone so happy when he felt like he was left alone standing in a current that was moving far too fast, and each branch he tried to reach out and grab, to hold on to, gave way beneath his weight and sent him back twenty feet.

Four weeks ago he had checked himself into a hotel room and drank himself into oblivion, figuring if Louis was doing it so could he.  _He couldn't stand being in that house. Their house._ He hid behind the alcohol, faked smiles as his eyes swam in alcohol and even made a vague twitter update he couldn’t even remember and didn’t bother checking. He was fine by himself, even played a few games while he was taking his break. He had actually thought at one point that Louis was there with him, the man just slightly blurred around the edges with the sound of his voice fading because his ears were drunk too, if even possible. They had played Monopoly, but when it came time for Harry to finally pass the GO sign, Louis evaporated and left Harry an empty chair to stare at.

_He slept in the bathtub that night, cradling a bottle of whiskey in his arms because it was the only thing at the moment that he could actually feel._

_We haven't spoke since you went away_

_Comfortable silence is so overrated_

_Why won't you ever be the first one to break?_

_Even the phone misses your call, by the way_

It’s been two months since the breakup, since he has last heard from Louis. What had led to his little break was when he had been walking down a random street with a security guard only inches behind him, fans not yet figuring out who the man in a red hat, grey shorts and black shirt was, and Louis had passed him in the car. He didn’t spare Harry a glance, didn’t even acknowledge his presence. He had been driving, too, Harry  _knew_ he could see him and Hank, yet he chose not to. Instead he continued on his way, a blonde sitting in the driver's seat and who knows who it was. Harry certainly didn’t.

But that wasn’t reason enough for his brain not to automatically tell him it was Gemma with him, that his own sister was betraying him and sleeping with the man he still loved. That was the first time he collapsed in public, thankful nobody has noticed him and that his first public breakdown hadn’t been caught by the paparazzi. He would never admit to being lifted by a grown man who may or may not have let him cry into his shoulder as he moved him from the sidewalk to the car that had came only minutes later, but if he ever did, he would make sure to thank Hank.

He wouldn’t thank Hank for giving him his phone that had fell to the ground seconds later, however, giving him to power to call someone with just a simple swipe and click. That had been one of the many times he had called Louis, but not the first time he had been sent right to voicemail. He should have accepted it then, that Louis  _wouldn’t_ answer his calls because he didn’t want to talk to him, but he couldn’t. With the tears still streaking his cheeks and showing no signs of giving up, he threw his phone at the seat and laid his head on the window, watching as the trees moved by in a blur. Louis’ stubbornness has once been admirable, but now it was annoying and frustrating.

_I saw your friend that you know from work_

_He said you feel just fine_

_I see you gave him my old T-shirt_

_More of what was once mine_

The words were accompanied by a thick voice as memories swamped his vocal cords. He tried to play it off and just cleared his throat, offering the crowd a small smile and a wave of a hand and prayed to god they didn’t see or hear how utterly broken he was.

Eddy, a friend of Louis’ that Harry had been convinced more than once was sleeping with him, had ran into Harry a few weeks ago when he had went to a club in search of some fun and a chance to forget. The panic attack had threatened then, especially when he seen the familiar blue shirt him and Louis used to share, until the curly haired man’s torso grew and the shirt no longer fit. It was their shirt, more or less, the one thing they both had to share from the beginning of their relationship and there was some fucking starry eyed idiot wearing it. Harry never thought anyone was an idiot, but that man was. And the small stain beneath the right armpit from the chocolate syrup Louis had spilled looked ridiculous on him.

He had been awkward the entire conversation, eyes darting behind Harry every few seconds before he found the man again. Harry had thought that maybe he had left a date, didn’t think too much about it and just continued to hound the man about Louis, knowing it was wrong but also too desperate to care. The tabloids only told you so much about a person's life, and Louis hid his well. Eddy said that Louis was doing fine, was happy and Harry didn’t miss the pointed look he got or the way the man’s upper lip curled as his tone became sassy.

It wasn’t until someone had came up to Eddy, though, that Harry knew why the man was acting strange.  _“Where did you run off to, mate? Louis’ waiting for his beer.”_  and the confused look the man gave both Eddy and Harry was immediately wiped off when he seen the latter, had even tucked tail and ran off towards the back of the bar where Harry seen Louis sitting, oblivious to the man standing twenty feet in front of him with his heart beating at a dangerously fast past.

_I see it's written, it's all over his face_

_Comfortable silence is so overrated_

_Why won't you ever say what you want to say?_

_Even my phone misses your call, by the way_

Louis had looked up not even a second later, almost as if he had been drawn to Harry’s gaze, but his eyes gave nothing away. He was stone faced, blue orbs clouded with something, a drug no doubt, as his hand brushed over a brown haired woman's arm. The urge to vomit had crashed over him as the walls began to close in on him, suffocating him and leaving him swaying on two feet as the drunk feeling came without the added benefits.

Louis didn’t move to stand up, didn’t say anything or quickly jerk his hand away for the benefit of Harry. He just continued staring, and for a second Harry was sure he seen a flicker of something in his dead eyes, something that was screaming at him, but it was gone when Louis suddenly tilted his head back and let out the loudest laugh Harry has ever heard him make, but also the fakest. He was never good at hiding himself when Harry was around. The man, even now, could read him like an open book, even if he had closed it one day and was only now just picking it up again, remembering all the secrets it held between the pages.

He could see that Louis wanted to say something, that he was fighting the urge to, but he also knew Louis would never make the first move. It was either Harry walked up to him and initiated the conversation, or they went their separate ways and pretended they had never seen each other. Seeing as the first one was nearly impossible because the floor was crumbling away at his feet, Harry chose the latter and ran as fast as he could out of the bar thumping with music and echoing with laughter. He couldn’t handle it, yet still found himself calling Louis as soon as he broke through the doors and was enveloped by the hot, humid air in California. You would never believe it was just barely approaching May. And, once again, the phone went to voicemail and Harry watched through one of the large glass windows as Louis shut his phone off and slid it in his pocket.

_Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too_

_Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too_

_Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too_

_But you, you never do_

When he agreed to make a video with James, he had been looking for something to keep him busy and what better than a man who was always positive and could make light of any situation. He had fun, was genuinely happy to see him and spend time with him and he sang his heart out and for a little while, Louis hadn’t been the main focus of his day. And it was only when they took a break to stop and get food that he checked his phone and found himself clicking on an article about Louis and Eleanor and their rekindled romance, and how his newest song he has yet to release was about her. It was a bunch of shit, Harry knew that, but he suddenly felt reckless and found himself kissing James when they were filming for his Christmas video.

It was an in the moment thing, and although it wasn’t enjoyable he still felt satisfied and suddenly hungry for more. He was done pining after Louis, waiting for him to call when he never would and it was because of James Harry finally decided to go out and find someone new. He left the car that day asking for a copy of them singing the Christmas song, didn’t know why he wanted it at the time until he finally got the edited version a week later. He had been petty, wanted to see if Louis even cared so he sent it to Liam, knowing the two were hanging out that day.

He never got the phone call he expected, but a small part of him liked to believe he had hurt Louis, even just a little bit, and for the first time in a long while he felt good.

_Woke up the girl who looked just like you_

_I almost said your name_

During his break, he found a lovely woman who was tiny and fiesty. She had chestnut, shoulder length hair and blue eyes that could look through you if you allowed her the eye contact. He hadn’t been searching for her, either, but stumbled upon her when he had went to a bar he knew Louis wouldn’t attend because he absolutely hated it after getting kicked out once because a friend of his had broke a chair against the wall.

She had approached him, actually. Recognized his hair even if it wasn’t at it’s usual length, and one thing led to another and he found himself waking up the next morning with a hangover and a light arm draped over his waist. She was tan, skin kissed by the sun and when he rolled onto his side to stare at her through slitted eyes, he almost thought she was Louis, had nearly called out his name until she opened her mouth and murmured something he couldn’t quite understand.

Guilt sank in, the pleasure from the night before immediately being forgotten as Louis crept into his mind. He didn’t mean to puke all over her, but didn’t even try to stop as all the alcohol he had consumed last night on an empty stomach came spewing out of his mouth. She was upset when she left, but he didn’t mind. He hoped they hadn’t been photographed, didn’t want Louis to think he had given up on him so quickly even if the man didn’t care.

_We haven't spoke since you went away_

_Comfortable silence is so overrated_

_Why won't you ever say what you want to say?_

_Even my phone misses your call, by the way_

_Fuck, his voice cracked._ Closing his eyes out of shame, afraid they could see what was going on in his mind, Harry stepped away from the mic and bowed, head hung low with eyes still closed. Even if he did live an entirely different life, these people weren’t the reason from the way he was feeling, for the war brewing in his stomach and making even singing become unbearable. He had once thought he would never tire of singing, of bringing people happiness with his voice, but now it seemed like a job rather than fun.

Louis took more with him than Harry would ever care to admit. He hated how dependant he became with the man, couldn’t even cook a meal without wondering if Louis would eat it and he always set the dinner table with two plates, always hoping Louis would show up even though he didn’t even answer the phone. He had the extra key, after all, knew the security code and the guards would let him in without hesitation. Harry gave them no reason not to, still trusted Louis with his life even if he felt like he no longer had one.

And it was when he was looking out at his fans that he realized he was pathetic, so fucking pathetic. He was nothing without Louis, and if everyone could see behind his mask they would agree he was pathetic, too, and wouldn’t love him as much as they claimed they did when they learned how weak he was.

 _“You’ve all been lovely. Thank you!” waiting in his dressing room was a bottle of whiskey, and even though his stomach was alreadys swishing with the liquid, he was craving more, needed more to continue on without breaking down for the seventh time that day._  Would Louis ever come back? Or was he really  _not_  good enough?

_If I had it my way, pub lunch every Sunday_

_Cheap beer and it's okay_

_I wanna lay where she lays_

_I wanna stay in these days_

_Gonna smoke and it's okay_


End file.
